Chapter 7: Goryeo

This sudden turn of events left not only Yan Ge Lao but everyone present utterly baffled. The Emperor, devoted to his cultivation for decades, had never once delayed reading the ceremonial script for state affairs. 

Yet today, he broke tradition—an act so out of character it felt as if the sun had risen in the west.

Sharing the same bewilderment, the hall fell into an awkward silence after the eunuch removed the ceremonial script. It was the Fiexuan Zhenjun himself who broke the silence.

“Yan Ge Lao, by my calculations, the Four Departments’ salt patrol—Di Maoyan has been gone for over a month now. Has he sent you any letters?”

Yan Ge Lao jolted, suddenly alert. The court often felt like a leaking ship—the closer to the core, the faster the news spread. Rumors of the Emperor dispatching the imperial guards to monitor Di’s activities had already circulated among the high-ranking officials. 

The Emperor’s pointed inquiry now was unmistakably a warning for him to distance himself from his troublesome disciple.

Without hesitation, Yan Ge Lao declared, “Your Majesty, I have not received so much as a word from Di Yushi (Censor Di). In fact, we rarely cross paths and are hardly acquainted.”

Di Maoyan had yet to secure a firm place among Yan Ge Lao’s loyal faction, so sacrificing him posed no significant loss. Thus, he promptly abandoned him.

As expected, the Emperor sneered. “To think he disregards even the bonds of his teacher’s mentorship! Truly the height of ingratitude. Based on this, the accusations brought before me—claiming Di Maoyan has engaged in corruption, abuse of power, and reckless conduct—are likely true and warrant thorough investigation.”

Without Yan Ge Lao’s protection, a mere Vice Censor-in-Chief was no more than an overgrown ant in such high-level deliberations. The officials present all bowed in unison, pledging to follow orders, thereby hammering the final nail into Di Maoyan’s coffin. The Emperor, brushing his sleeves, continued:

“Investigate quietly for now. Once Di Maoyan returns to the Beijing (capital) after the salt patrol and hands over the accounts, deal with him and his associates. Make sure not to alert the snake before striking. 

The Ministry of Revenue and the Bureau of Weaving are always lamenting poverty to me—if this is handled properly, perhaps we can make the rest of the year more bearable.”

Mu Qi held his breath, his lips twitching involuntarily at the remarks. Though the old Taoist priest seemed aloof, engrossed in cultivation, his calculations regarding silver and gold were chillingly precise. 

Over the past few days, while dispatching the imperial guards to monitor Di’s residence, the Emperor had likely worn down his abacus, meticulously accounting for every coin. 

He would probably even sell the rats in Di’s granaries to the countryside, converting them into cash to replenish his private treasury’s deficit.

The so-called “bearable year” was merely an excuse to split the gains with the national treasury.

Xia Lao, as Grand Secretary, naturally stepped forward to discuss dividing the spoils between the court and the treasury. “Your Majesty, the overdue salaries for Zhili and Shanxi officials have been in arrears for over a year. Might we allocate 700,000 taels of silver to first settle the salaries for officials below the fourth rank?”

The Emperor said, “It is allowed.”

Xia Ge Lao continued, “In order to make up for the deficit in the national treasury, we propose an additional two cents tax per mu of water land in Jiangsu and Zhejiang. May His Majesty give the order to exempt it?”

Zhenjun responded with a sigh, “The common people are suffering. It is reasonable to allocate some; approve the petition.”

Although his words were still delivered in the same cryptic, unpleasant tone, Mu Qi was still quite surprised and widened his eyes. By tradition, any taxes set to be increased were already money in the Emperor’s pocket, and now he was willing to reduce the burden on the people. When did the old Taoist become so humanized?

The Emperor quietly stroked the book hidden in his sleeve, his expression cold and indifferent.

 Clearly, no matter where that exiled immortal hidden among the crowd was, he had nothing to say about the Emperor’s actions and could only remain silent.

Feixuan Zhenjun had been bothered by strange books for several days, but now that he had finally taken the initiative, he felt a sense of satisfaction.

“As for other matters concerning the benefit of the country and the people, Xia Ge Lao can discuss them with the six ministries and propose a memorial for me to approve. As long as they are reasonable, they will be granted.

The remaining funds can be gathered, and I will find a way to cover the deficit. First, let us repair the Taimiao Temple. This will show my sincerity in honoring the heavens and our ancestors.”

Upon hearing this, everyone in the hall raised an eyebrow and immediately understood the implication:

The drama was about to begin!

No wonder the Emperor seemed so generous and accommodating in approving budget proposals—this was the hidden twist he had been setting up!

The Emperor, having succeeded to the throne at a young age and having come from a foreign family, had fought a dramatic battle with the Yang family to honor his biological father, King Xingxian, as Emperor. 

This struggle had caused the deaths of sixteen officials of the fourth rank or higher. The final ceremony had led to Yang Shoufu being demoted to a commoner and dying in illness at home; his son, Yang Yongxiu, was exiled to Lingnan, never to be pardoned. 

However, Yang Yongxiu, talented and poor, was said to have made great strides in his writing during his exile, achieving everlasting fame.

However, the court officials were not dedicated to such literary endeavors and had no intention of standing up to the Emperor’s actions. So they had silently accepted the Emperor’s honoring of his biological father.

But the old Taoist priest’s desires seemed endless, and his methods increasingly audacious. 

After honoring his biological father, the next step was to posthumously name him, and after that, to repair his tomb. Now that the tomb was complete, rumors began to spread in the palace that the Emperor seemed to want to move his biological father into the Taimiao Temple to join the ancestral rites!

This was truly excessive. The Taimiao Temple was the place of worship for all past emperors, and the main hall had a limit on the number of tablets it could house. 

If King Xingxian’s tablet was added, whose would be removed? A prince who had never even been near the Emperor’s rank was now trying to take the rightful Emperor’s place?

Even with the softened court after the great ceremonies, this was a difficult pill to swallow. The Emperor likely knew this was unreasonable, so he hinted at it with delicate gestures, first testing the waters by mentioning repairs to the temple—small moves at first. But even small moves like this were not easily accepted.

Sure enough, Xia Ge Lao fell silent.

At just the right moment, the book hidden in the Emperor’s sleeve opened to reveal its pointed critique:

“Lao Deng really lacks great virtue. If he moves his father in, who will be pushed out? According to the rules established by Emperor Gaozu, ‘The Son of Heaven’s Nine Temples’—looking back over nine generations, isn’t it precisely the royal ancestors, including Emperor Tai Zongzhu, the infamous Zhu Laosi? Oh my, could it be that they plan to move Emperor Tai Zongzhu out?! If Zhu Laosi knows, he’ll be rolling in the Long Tomb—there’s no such thing as filial piety here, no filial piety at all!”

The Emperor’s lips twitched, but he did not lose his composure.

…It didn’t matter. He had heard countless disrespectful words since the great ceremonies began, so this one was nothing. Besides, he already had a foolproof plan in place, one that would not harm the dignity of Emperor Taizongzhu.

“No, the old Taoist priest wouldn’t be so bold. If they moved Zhu Laosi out, what would become of their own descendants? Would they be considered rebels and traitors? 

No, Emperor Tai Zongzhu must be preserved. So, the only choice is to move Zhu Laosi’s son, the fat Emperor Renzong… Ah, if I can’t bully the father, I’ll bully the son. The honest man always suffers…”

Feixuan Zhenjun sighed deeply, looking at Xia Ge Lao, who stood silently.

“The Taimiao Temple is the home of our ancestors’ spirits. How can it be neglected? I… I’ve always worried about it and must make sure it’s done properly.”

He had originally wanted to express his filial piety, but remembering the book’s outrageous words, he subconsciously swallowed the rest of his sentence.

When the Emperor pressed further, Xia Ge Lao had no choice but to respond:

“Repairing the Taimiao Temple is an important matter. Allow me to consult with the Ministry of Rites and report back.”

This was clearly a delay tactic, but the Emperor was not concerned. The Prime Minister could be a little finicky. However, he had more reliable and efficient tools at his disposal and was not worried about the officials dragging their feet.

“Yan Ge Lao,” he called, “You manage the Ministry of Rites, so you must handle this carefully.”

Yan Ge Lao immediately replied, “I will follow your orders. However, the Ministry of Rites is currently dealing with envoys from Goryeo, discussing the issue of designating a crown prince. 

It may be difficult to handle everything immediately.”

This response seemed unremarkable, but Xia Ge Lao furrowed his brow slightly. He knew little about the affairs of the foreign state, but he had heard that there were problems with the Goryeo nobility’s system of ranking legitimate and illegitimate sons, delaying the designation of the crown prince. 

While the matter of a foreign crown prince was minor, the issue of their legal system was crucial; as long as Yan Ge Lao intervened in the Goryeo legal system, he could take the initiative and establish a precedent that would help in future debates over the Emperor’s father’s entry into the Taimiao Temple.

Though he knew Yan Ge Lao was trying to cause trouble, Xia Ge Lao and Xu Shaohu knew nothing about Goryeo’s affairs, so they could not intervene and chose to remain silent. Feixuan Zhenjun understood this subtle hint from the sycophantic minister and nodded in a good mood.

After finalizing the matters of the family estate and sending his father into the temple, the remaining smaller issues did not require much effort. 

By the sixth hour of the day, the eunuchs of the Palace of Ceremonies had finished reviewing and sealing documents, and the younger eunuchs came in one after another to remove the long tables and chairs and replace them with incense burners filled with pine and cypress. 

The court officials were arranged in two rows, their heads slightly bowed, waiting for the palace attendants to place ornate, verdant floral crowns on them.

That’s right. After the official proceedings, the second skill required of the old Taoist priest’s disciples was about to come into play. They still had to “dance with the dust in the air” and “chant praises along with the group,” praying to the heavens with the emperor.

Mu Qi slightly lowered his head, his expression unchanged. When the large fluttering moths in front of him fluttered back behind the screen, only a hazy figure remained. 

Then, with the sound of a bronze bell, everyone twisted their waists, extended their legs, and stretched their bodies, swaying rhythmically. Under the watchful eyes of all, he had no choice but to sway his hips and vigorously swing his sleeves.

So, as they say, human adaptability is indeed powerful. In the past, when he had first received the emperor’s favor, chosen to compose the “green words” and witness the poisonous smoke while twisting his waist and swaying his hips in front of dozens of people, Mu Qi had been full of anger and sorrow, unable to hold it in. 

He must have cursed the old Taoist priest tens of thousands of times in his journal. But now, after enduring for a few years, Mu Qi couldn’t find anything new to say. To distract himself from the unbearable awkwardness of the long dance, he could only empty his mind and force himself to think about random things to pass the time.

For example, today, he paid special attention to the matter of the competition for the Crown Prince of Goryeo, mentioned by Yan Fenyi at the end. He had a vague sense that this seemed to signify something important and should be carefully noted down.

Though he greatly appreciated the enthusiastic dancing of the important officials, the Zhenjun himself would never dance in front of his subjects. 

The large screen behind him was empty, with only his childhood companion Wang Ben by his side, holding a scepter and breathing calmly, waiting to strike the bronze bell in rhythm. 

Feixuan Zhenjun had changed into a close-fitting blue-purple Taoist robe and, with the swirling mist of pine trees, stepped slowly onto the high Taiji platform, embedded with black-and-white jade stones. His hands formed Taoist gestures, and his feet moved in precise steps, following the strict regulations of the Yu steps.

Amid the light mist, the ethereal presence of an immortal, with his graceful posture like a jade tree in the wind, was truly a sight to behold, exuding an aura that could easily deceive others.

After stepping over two hexagram positions, the emperor’s book inside his sleeve suddenly made a faint sound again:

【I just remembered, this is actually the beginning of the Goryeo Crown Prince succession issue—such a big disaster that happened later, and now it’s being settled with just a few words?】

The emperor’s expression remained calm, his steps steady and without disruption. After several recent shocks, even the Feixuan Zhenjun had become accustomed to it, and such a minor disturbance was no longer enough to stir his heart.

【But this issue was seeded long ago. More than a decade ago, Goryeo sent an envoy to request that Concubine Dajin be made the queen. At that time, the great ceremonial procedures were in disarray, and the Ministry of Rites was overwhelmed and neglected to verify things properly. 

They mistakenly reported the name of Dajin’s sister, Shunpin Xiao Jin, and the edict was issued as such. Once the edict was issued, it couldn’t be changed, and Xiaojin inexplicably became the queen.

But by sheer coincidence, during the reign of the late emperor, Emperor Wuzong, to reward the Goryeo royal family’s loyalty, he had granted the title of Crown Prince to the son of Concubine Dajin, and this edict, too, could not be altered!】

The emperor raised an eyebrow, casually shifting his step as his robe billowed. Matters of personal concern were always on his mind, while the affairs of others were far more intriguing. 

As for the mistake made in the past, the emperor had long forgotten and couldn’t be bothered to make amends for others.

【Looking at it now, everything that followed seems to have been caused by these conflicting edicts—the two appointments led to a situation where the Crown Prince’s real mother was not the queen, and the queen’s son was not the Crown Prince. This ultimate flaw created a situation that almost caused Goryeo’s lungs to explode!

While the Central Plains follow the principle that “a mother’s status is tied to her son,” and such confusion could be glossed over, Goryeo is different. Goryeo has taken class division to the extreme, almost like a religious cult of legitimate heirs. 

Their rigid hierarchy leaves no room for any negligence. To exaggerate, a queen, as the primary wife, could directly sell the Crown Prince’s mother, and the Crown Prince, being both legitimate and the eldest, could even sell the queen’s children—this was a system of mutual sales, mutual threats, a dark forest model blessed by the god of sale!】

When the sound of the bronze bell echoed softly, the emperor’s expression remained composed as he continued his steps and gestures, channeling his Qi from his dantian into his chest. 

Regardless of legitimacy or sale, Yan Fenyi was there, managing everything in the front, so the Feixuan Zhenjun didn’t need to worry. 

However, Goryeo’s intense focus on legitimacy, even if unintentional, still displeased the Zhenjun, who decided to reduce the rewards given to the envoys.

【So, it’s normal for Goryeo to repeatedly send envoys to urge the court to resolve the issue. 

But no one in the Ministry of Rites dared to correct the emperor’s edict and could only deal with it perfunctorily. Until Yan Fenyi took over, to establish a precedent for moving the Taimiao Temple, he forcibly designated the queen Xiaojin’s son as the heir and changed the original Crown Prince to queen Xiaojin, agreeing to return the position to queen Xiaojin’s son in the future.

But such a structure could never have been without issues. The new king secretly killed queen Xiaojin and his son within three years of ascending the throne, purging the remaining factions and making a huge scandal in the court. 

Fortunately, by then, Yan Fenyi had been promoted to prime minister and had control over the court. He managed to cover it up and kept it from the emperor’s knowledge.】

Yan Fenyi appeared to be loyal, but once in power, he dared to deceive both sides?

…It seems that while promoting old ministers, one should also make preparations.

【However, Yan Fenyi had his reasons for not reporting it. At the time, the Ministry of Rites sent someone to question the new Goryeo king, and he spoke disrespectfully and arrogantly. When the envoy asked where his legitimate nephew was, the new king replied without hesitation:

“He’s gone searching for Emperor Jianwen, riding on the white clouds!”

Oh, and then added, “The emperor still honors his biological father, so how could I not honor my biological mother? Besides, my father is also a king, so there’s no need to move the Taimiao Temple to shift the position of the late king. The envoy needn’t worry about it!”
—Oh my, if the old Taoist priest had heard this, he would probably have been struck directly, breaking his Taoist heart…】

Mu Qi flipped through his materials, compared them with his memory, and finally sorted out the events in Goryeo, satisfied as he closed his heart notes. 

But just as he lifted his leg to follow the others in stepping like a crane, he heard a loud crash from behind the screen, as if some heavy object had fallen to the ground, rolling several times with a clattering sound. Then, a sharp, sorrowful scream followed it was Wang Ben’s voice.

“Your Majesty, Your Majesty! Are you alright, Your Majesty? What happened to your face?”

Before he could wail a second time, there was a sharp slap, followed by an explosive roar that echoed through the air:

“Get out! All of you, get out of here!”